Writings from 11/02 to 3/05. |
11-23-04 Do you want what's on the surface or do you want what's already begotten? It's not good enough for me to buy even though it's been in my hands many times. I've never suffered for my craft so much, no, not to have it taken from me and shattered and disregarded. What's paper to pockets of a crack fiend is exactly what a day's worth of writing is to me. Do you take what isn't yours by listening, or build something better with two hands, a heart and a mind? What's yours can stay yours if you respect mine as mine. But it's good to be you, isn't it? When the only thing you have to do is be you? You saw your name in the paper last week. It was someone else's obituary; were you an ally or a tributary? Maybe you were "down" and he was down and out. In the end though, it was you that mattered, and you reaped the lights and fame while someone else paid a price. Now here we are, and here's where it goes. That time of year that we always fear. Everything happens for a reason, but nothing seems to work in autumn. I'm in the month of my annual implosion, where my choices define who I am to be for the next long time. Maybe it's that, or I make a choice to put that off by going back to square one again because I can't get over this step from the other last great starting point. On the verge of the bitter of my discontent is the outlook in front of me because it's how life always seems to go... just when I start to get in the clear of things and catch a few breaks, something gets broken or broken into and I'm right back where I began. That could be the difference in us. Your outlook is forward; mine is littered with remembrance and my heart won't let my eyes look up without looking back and telling myself not to let problems happen again. You will, one day, become bigger than the both of us. You'll be sold on something you may not like or believe in, and become what you hated without ever knowing while we go our separate ways, perhaps never going anywhere in the first place. I know this based on more than me knowing myself better than yesterday's horoscope does. Yet all I've seemed to learn is that I can go anywhere but here. |